What If I Just Disappeared?
by Hipster Canada
Summary: Tonight, the boredom and loneliness has finally taken over. I can't sit here wondering anymore. I have to see for myself. I have to see myself how these events would play out, and what would happen if I no longer existed. I am going to fake my own death. And tonight, it begins.
1. Chapter 1

Do you ever have those moments when you survey your life and wish you could change what you see?

Have you ever scrolled down the list of contacts in your phone and thought... "None of these people are my friends." Or even if they are... you can't see them wanting to hear from you. Do you ever have those days when you feel like turning off your phone, deactivating your Facebook, your Twitter, and your Pintrest, just to see if anyone would notice?

Have you ever felt completely _invisible_?

I don't know if you have, but I have. Every single day of my entire life. I'm not invisible in the physical sense, but I might as well be. No one notices, no one cares, no one even remembers my name. I have honestly wondered many times how long it would take someone to notice if I disappeared entirely. Someone would, eventually. At least I hope they would. I wondered who would be the one to first notice.

Would it be my Papa? He always saw me, he always cared. But then, he didn't come around much these days. Too busy with his own affairs to visit me. I doubted it would be Papa. I ran through a list of people in my head, but mentally checked them off, dismissing them one by one. Finally, I arrived at the only logical conclusion. My brother.

Almost definitely, it would be Alfred who noticed I was missing. He'd be coming over, wanting me to make him pancakes or play video games with him after anyone he _really_ wanted to spend time with has chased him out for being a little too irritating. He wouldn't notice how quiet the house was at first, but once he got hungry, or once I didn't appear to chase him out of my refrigerator, he would wonder where I was. Whether or not he would care was debatable. Probably he'd find the need to play the hero. To find, rescue, and save his poor, defenseless little brother Mattie.

That's all I am to him. Yet I am none of those things, and nobody knows. Nobody knows who I really am_. I_ barely know.

Tonight, the boredom and loneliness has finally taken over. I can't sit here wondering anymore. I have to see for myself. I have to see myself how these events would play out, and what would happen if I no longer existed. No, no, suicide is non-optional. Even the idea of suicide turns my stomach. I hate pain, and I could never self-inflict it. I know how to keep a stiff upper-lip, but if left on my own, I turn into a bawling mess. I cut myself shaving yesterday and cried for five minutes. The only time I can take pain is when I'm in competitive mode. That means hockey, football, wrestling with Alfred. Not slashing my wrists.

I couldn't overdose on something out of my medicine cabinet; unless half a bottle of gummy vitamins could kill you. I couldn't hang myself; I'd chicken out before the knot was tied. I wouldn't shoot myself; I'd end up missing and putting a bullet hole in my ear, and then we're back to the pain thing. Besides. I'm not suicidal. I'm just lonely, and tired of being invisible. No, I'm not killing myself. Not actually, anyway. But from this moment on, for all intents and purposes, I am dead.

I am going to fake my own death. And tonight, it begins.


	2. Chapter 2

In case you're worried about this little stunt being too mean or too over the top for just a prank, I'll let you know now. I'm not going to let it go _too_ far. I'm not going to mysteriously reappear several months after my funeral, much to the surprise of everyone I know. No, that's too much. Besides, my brother would think I was a ghost come to haunt him. And while that would be great fun to let him believe, he's terrified of ghosts and would probably pull out his proton pack and try to go Ghostbusters on me.

No. As much as an idiot as my brother is, I love him, and I will not stay in hiding for an extended amount of time. I'm thinking about three days. Long enough for them to react, but not long enough for them to do too much. Unless, of course, they really _don't_ care. In which case I will probably end up moving to Antarctica and hoping the penguins don't forget me as readily as humans do.

I've spent all evening reprogramming my security system, so that I can see a little bit of what happens. Just for the sake of my curiosity, I placed a few microphones around my house as well. Both the cameras and the audio can be accessed from my laptop. I also rigged my brother's favorite jacket with a microphone. The jacket which he just so happened to leave at my house earlier this evening when he came crying to my door that his boyfriend was ignoring him. I dismissed it, because Alfred's boyfriend was polite to a _fault_. Alfred didn't even spend ten minutes here before flying out the door at a text from said boyfriend, wondering where he had gone. And in those ten minutes, he didn't acknowledge me except to ask for pancakes and whine to the room about being 'ignored' by his Japanese partner.

That encounter above and beyond all others solidified my resolution to go through with this experiment.

I'm not even going to any extraordinary lengths to make them think I'm dead. I'm not giving them a body, I'm not giving them blood spatter, I'm not giving them an empty pill bottle. All I'm giving them is my suicide note. Beyond that, it will be as if I have simply disappeared off the face of the planet.

So really, the note is the key to my plan.

I really wasn't sure how to write one, but I've seen a few in the movies and I made a guess. I mostly did a lot of rambling about how no one cared, about how I was invisible, and something about doing this because I couldn't stand living alone anymore. I told Papa and Alfred I loved them, and that I figured they'd get over it really quick. My handwriting was pretty shaky, partly because I was trying and partly because I was beginning to rethink this little stunt. I've never been an attention hound, but my curiosity simply got the best of me. I ended with a truly heart felt "I'm sorry for putting you through this" and signed my name to the end. I left the note on the kitchen counter. Alfred should see it immediately when he came in.

I left the front door unlocked like I always do. My cell phone I turned off and left in my bedroom. The landline was unplugged and my old laptop shut down. With the exception of my phone being unplugged, it was as if I was simply going to bed for the night. Which I was.

Then, I headed to the attic. My attic is one of those attics you access by pulling the cord dangling from the ceiling. Said cord is found in the walk-in closet of my master bedroom. I yanked the cord, revealing folding steps from the ceiling. Once secure on the attic floorboards, I carefully retracted the steps, refolding them and pulling the access panel shut. Hopefully my hiding place would be a decent one. It was this or the shed out back. At least the attic was air conditioned.

My attic isn't very spacious, but amongst all the boxes of holiday decorations there's room enough for a cot with a spare pillow and blanket. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring the items I usually use, as their absence might trigger suspicion. Under the cot, there is a flashlight and a novel. At the end of the bed is a cooler full of food and water bottles. Resting on my bed is my new laptop and a pair of headphones. I upgraded the computer just last week, and my old one is still sitting on my desk downstairs.

Sitting on my bed, I scoop up my laptop and open my newest application. The one that controls the cameras and microphones I've littered about my house. I leave it open to a view of my driveway and sit back against the wall. Let's see how long it takes before Al comes back for his jacket.

* * *

**_A/N: I should have warned you all about the short chapters. Hopefully I can make it up to you by keeping on top of the updates._**


	3. Chapter 3

A grin crept across Gilbert's face as he pulled into the driveway at his awesome little Birdie's place. He was going to surprise him with his awesome presence. Gilbert didn't really have a plan. He just wanted to see his Birdie. Maybe he'd take him to the movies or something. It had been too long since he'd done this. And by too long, it had been, like, two weeks. Two very unawesome weeks.

Gilbert jumped out of his little silver car and ran up to the front door. He didn't bother to knock, because Matthew never locked his front door and he wanted to surprise him anyway. With any luck, he might catch the Canadian without his shirt on. Gilbert secretly loved that little view.

"Oh Birdie~!" Gilbert half sang, half shouted, tucking his car keys into his back pocket and racing up the steps into the Canadian's living room. He cursed at Matthew's stupid, fluffy white cat when he almost tripped over it lying at the top of the stairs. "Mattie, the awesome me has arrived to cure your boredom!"

Hearing no response, Gilbert shrugged and headed for the kitchen. Sometimes Mattie cooked with his headphones in and couldn't hear. Gilbert found the kitchen void of his blond-haired Birdie, though. Then he noticed a full sized sheet of paper on the otherwise cleared counter top. It looked like a letter. He grabbed the paper and started reading it aloud for no particular reason. "To whomever finds this note, I first of all would like to apologize for any inconvenience I have ever caused you. I just can't take this anymore, so I've decided to end it all."

Gilbert's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. His voice fell silent as he frantically searched the rest of the letter. No. Note. _Suicide_ note. Gilbert cursed under his breath before raising his voice. "MATTHEW," he called, his voice loud and firm. "Matthew, you'd better get your ass out here right now or I'm gonna be pissed."

Silence.

Gilbert stormed out of the kitchen, clutching the horrible note in his grip and practically crushing it. He searched through Matthew's house, checking every room and calling out his name. With every word Gilbert got more frantic and more sick to his stomach and he started to dread finding Matthew. Terrible images flashed through Gilbert's brain, each one of his precious little Birdie cold and lifeless, with the object he'd used to cause his own death nearby. Gilbert's breath came faster as he panicked. "MATTHEW!"

Gilbert swallowed hard as he opened the door to Matthew's basement. Almost trembling, he crept down the stairs into the cold basement, expecting to see Matthew dangling from a rafter or lifeless in a pool of blood. But the basement, like every other room in the house, was empty. Gilbert tried to calm himself. If Mattie wasn't here, then maybe he wasn't dead. He couldn't kill himself and then walk away, right?

_But he could walk away and then kill himself._

Gilbert's last thought brought him to his knees in Matthew's basement. He knelt there for a long moment; his chest heaving, his mind racing, his eyes stinging from tears threatening to fall. The sound of footsteps above brought Gilbert to his feet and sent him racing upstairs. _Matthew_.


	4. Chapter 4

Alfred had forgotten his jacket.

He was still kicking himself for forgetting his absolute favorite article of clothing at his brother's house. It was just... when he'd gotten that text from Kiku, he'd raced home. It really was not fair at all that Kiku had been ignoring him all afternoon. Like really, who took a bath for, like, an _hour_ and then took half of _eternity_ to get dressed? Alfred didn't have time for that kind of stuff. Especially when Kiku wouldn't even talk to Alfred while he was in the bath.

Alfred got lonely, and he got pissed off. So he'd gone to see Mattie, because Mattie was always there for him.

Alfred sighed as he pulled into Matthew's driveway. Mattie'd probably give him all kinds of crap for being so forgetful. He threw his truck in park and eyed the silver car sitting in the driveway suspiciously. "Better not be that Beilschmidt freak," Alfred muttered. He always had been and always would be fiercely protective of his brother. He really didn't like the idea of Gilbert Beilschmidt hanging around his brother so much. That guy was bound to end up coercing Mattie into something stupid, illegal, or disgusting. Alfred was not about to let that happen.

"Yo!" Alfred called when he reached the door. It was standing open, and while Matthew was in the – in Alfred's opinion – horribly dangerous habit of leaving his door unlocked at all times, he didn't leave it standing open. He frowned, figuring Beilschmidt had left it open. "Damn it, Beilschmidt, you German bastard, you'd better not be molesting my brother!"

Stepping inside and shutting the front door behind him, Alfred glanced around. He couldn't see anyone, and he couldn't hear anyone. Well someone had to be here beside Matt's stupid cat. Said cat hissed sharply at Alfred and glared at him. Alfred barked loudly and stepped over the cat.

"Matthew, what the fuck kind of sick prank are you-"

Alfred brought his attention around and focused on Gilbert climbing the stairs three at a time. Gilbert stopped short in his random shouting and stared at Alfred. "Please tell me you've seen Matthew."

"'Course I've seen Mattie!" Alfred chirped. "Just last night I saw him. I forgot my jacket and came back. Why, where is he?"

Gilbert glanced down at the crumpled paper in his grasp. "I don't know. He isn't in the house. But I found this when I got here." Gilbert practically tossed the paper at Alfred. He didn't want anything to do with that note anymore.

Alfred read silently, his lips moving with each word. His blue eyes widened in alarm at about the same spot Gilbert's had. "No. No, no, no, no. No. Mattie wouldn't do that. He wouldn't. No." Alfred's terrified blue eyes looked up at caught Gilbert's. "Oh my god, please tell me this is a joke."

Gilbert looked away from Alfred. Even though Gilbert had never confused the two or really even understood why it was so hard for everyone else to tell them apart, the fact remained that Alfred looked too much like Matthew. It hurt. Alfred's face was identical, but it would never replace Matthew. "I was just about to ask you for that reassurance, buddy."

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod," Alfred was in full out freak-out mode now, pacing back and forth before bolting down the hallway to Matthew's bedroom. "MATTHEW!"

Meanwhile, Gilbert had sunk to the floor again, no longer trusting his legs to support him. Matthew's cat approached cautiously, mewling and seeming to ask what was going on. Gilbert stroked a furry white ear absently, his mind completely on Matthew.

After a while, Alfred came back, tears streaking his cheeks and an absolutely stunned expression painting his face. "I-I... I should call Arthur. A-and Fr- call Francis." Blue eyes searched for some kind of hold on reality. Gilbert didn't even notice, but he did pull out his cell phone and dialed Francis's number. Francis – Matthew's father-figure and Gilbert's good friend. It was a little strange that he was both, but no one really cared. The silky, accented voice answered the phone on the third ring. "Bonjour~"

"Francis." Gilbert's voice was dull and rather hollow sounding to his own ears. "Francis, you need to come."

"Ohonhonhonhon, darling, et are you offering to 'elp moi with zis?"

"Francis," Gilbert said sharply. "I'm at Matthew's with Alfred. Only Matthew isn't here and... and..." Gilbert couldn't say it. "And we found this _thing_." Gilbert spat the word with disgust, but snapped a picture of the wrinkled paper using his phone and quickly sent the picture to Francis. A sharp intake of breath sounded over the phone.

"Oh _non_," Francis breathed. "Non, not mon Matthieu. 'E would never..."

"You need to come over," Gilbert practically whispered. "A-and bring Arthur, too."

"Oui, oui," Francis sounded like he was going to cry. "I shall be over as soon as possible."


	5. Chapter 5

Francis hurried as fast as he could to the small town house his lovely Matthew lived in. In the passenger seat was an uncharacteristically quiet Brit. Francis barely noticed the silence as he broke every speed limit between his apartment and Matthew's home. He was thinking of his precious, shy, beautiful Matthew.

Francis wasn't really the boy's father, but since Matthew had never known his father and had practically grown up in the joint care of Francis and Arthur, Francis had always considered Matthew his son, and Matthew had called Francis 'Papa' ever since either of them could remember.

The photograph Gilbert had texted him was a close up on a single paragraph of the note, but it was quite obvious to tell that it was, indeed, a suicide note. Francis couldn't bring himself to believe that his darling little Matthieu would kill himself. Especially so suddenly. Without any warning. There had been no signs!

Then again... Francis was pained to admit he hadn't seen Matthew lately. He hadn't made time for his adorable little charge in his hectic schedule. He'd made time for others, though. Francis was overwhelmed with a gnawing, guilty feeling. What if it was his fault? What if Matthew had done this horrible thing because he was lonely or depressed and no one had made time to listen to him? What if-

"Stop it, frog."

The harsh, commanding voice surprised Francis and he swerved ever so slightly in his lane. "Arthur, don't frighten moi like zat."

"I've been sitting here this entire time, Francis, it isn't like I've suddenly appeared from nowhere." Arthur scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. "I can see where your mind is going and you can't think that way. We don't even know if he is dead."

"Why would Matthieu lie about som'zing like zis?" Francis asked. "Et besides. You can't possibly know what I was 'sinking just now." Francis quickly ran a hand under his eyes.

"You were thinking 'What if this is all my fault?'"

Francis frowned. "Arthur, stop reading minds."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please, frog. If I were a mind reader, I would have gotten out of a lot of sticky situations a lot faster that I did. I could just tell you were thinking it." Arthur didn't add that his thoughts had been running along the same lines.

Arthur hadn't been as close to Matthew as he was to Alfred. Arthur had always had to keep a closer eye on Alfred – the boy always getting into trouble and demanding attention and being overly loud and obnoxious in order to get it. Plus Matthew had always gravitated more toward Francis. With Matthew being so quiet and Arthur being distracted by the much noisier twin, it was easy for Arthur to forget Matthew existed. That wasn't to say Arthur liked Alfred better than Matthew. On the contrary. Arthur wished he and Matthew were closer. But they weren't. And now it sounded like it might be too late to change that.

"Arthur?"

Arthur blinked suddenly, snapping himself out of his thoughts. "What?"

"I asked if you were coming inside," Francis replied. Arthur glanced out the window and realized they had arrived at Matthew's house. A somewhat familiar silver coupe and Alfred's big blue pick-up already filled the driveway, and two police cars sat parked on the street in front of the house.

"Right, yes, of course." Arthur unbuckled his seat-belt and climbed out of the car, following Francis up the walk to Matthew's front door. Once Francis and Arthur got inside, everything happened in a blur.

Arthur was immediately glomped by a clingy, emotional wreck of an American. Francis gravitated toward Gilbert, looking rather sick to his stomach as he sat on the couch, answering the police officers' questions in a disconnected monotone. The police officers discovered who the newcomers where and grilled them for answers as well. Answers to questions such as "Did Matthew exhibit any signs of depression or strange behavior in the last few weeks?" or "Do you have any idea where he would go to get away?"

Answers to such questions were not possessed by Alfred or Gilbert, or Francis or Arthur. After what felt like forever, the police officers stood. "Well, we'll put a look out for him. Unfortunately, he's an adult, so he can't be considered missing since you saw him less than twelve hours ago." Alfred swallowed hard and stared at the floor. "The note is cause for worry, but there isn't a whole lot we can do. Since there's no body on the property, the best you can do is hope he comes home. I'm afraid the more likely scenario will play out when we dredge the river tomorrow."

Francis let out a sob and gnawed on a corner of his handkerchief. Alfred looked heartbroken and Gilbert looked like he was going to be sick. Arthur just looked uncomfortable. It was Arthur who managed to pull together some semblance of formality and thanked the officers for coming by and saw them to the door. When he returned to the living room, Gilbert was gone and Francis was openly weeping. Alfred looked like he was trying as hard as he could not to break down himself. "Where's Gilbert?"

Alfred shrugged, swallowing hard. "Ah, I think he went to the bathroom."

Arthur nodded and felt completely at a loss. He was helpless. Right now, Arthur firmly believed Matthew was simply missing. However there was a sinking feeling inside of him that believed the officers had been correct when they mentioned the river. While he refused to do it now, he knew funeral plans would have to be made. They would have to clean out the very house they were standing in of Matthew's possessions. Arthur was loath to mention any of it. Partly because mentioning it made Matthew's suicide feel real. Partly because everyone else in the house with him was already an emotional wreck, a ticking time-bomb of an emotional wreck, or a German who looked like he had a bad case of food poisoning.

Arthur himself was fighting back the lump rising in his throat, but he felt obligated to show some semblance of strength and goddamn it, he intended to. He'd keep a stiff upper lip as long as he needed to. For Francis and Alfred. For Matthew. He didn't think it was fair, though. That Matthew's so-called 'escape' did such a thing to those who cared about it. It was enough to make Arthur bloody angry. Matthew took the easy way out, and left behind a lifetime of memories and pain for his loved ones. It was selfish, and it wasn't fair.

But Arthur wasn't going to get into that now.


	6. Chapter 6

I sit back against the wall and gnaw on my lower lip. Well.

I'm going to admit I hadn't really thought this far in advance. The cops pulling away from my house are involved now. It was one thing to pop out and say to my friends and family "Hey guys, I was only kidding about being dead!" The cops are another story.

I'm thoroughly convinced it's only because Gilbert was the first to arrive. If it had been Alfred, the most he would have done was come in, call out my name a couple of times, grab his jacket, and leave. He wouldn't have given the note a second thought. Or even seen it.

Then again, I didn't think anyone would even care about this whole endeavor, so I could be wrong on this assumption too.

I should have thought of Gilbert. I crossed him off my list because we had a fight last week and I thought he was still ignoring me. Again, I was very much wrong on that assumption.

Maybe I should give up on assuming things all together.

Maybe I should go downstairs now and end this prank before I dig myself any deeper.

Not that I think it can get any worse than this.

I lay back against my pillow, run a hand through my wavy blond hair and sigh. I'm not going down yet. I need an explanation. I set my brain to think up a good way to end this prank.

By the time I finally fall asleep, I've still got nothing but a growing, guilty feeling in my stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

Gilbert, Alfred, Arthur, and Francis spent the night at Matthew's house, still clinging to some dying hope that Matthew would come through the front door, alive and well, and this would all be some terrible misunderstanding.

None of them slept much.

Kiku arrived the next morning, concerned about Alfred more than anything. Francis made breakfast for them all, but even Alfred barely ate. The predominant thought in Gilbert's mind was that Mattie was a way better cook than Francis, even if he drenched everything in maple syrup and thought pancakes were a staple in one's diet.

After breakfast, Gilbert fell asleep on the sofa. Francis envied him. As did Alfred. Arthur and Kiku were too busy trying to convince them to get out of the house, at least for a while. Neither Francis nor Alfred payed attention to them. Alfred eventually locked himself in Matt's room with the cat, and Francis sat on the back porch and wouldn't acknowledge Arthur when he spoke to him.

It wasn't until Gilbert woke up sometime in the mid-afternoon that Francis was convinced to come inside. Arthur was grateful that Francis listened to _someone_'s reasoning, even if it was an obnoxious German instead of a sensible Briton like himself. However, this wasn't a time to quibble.

Kiku sat on the floor beside Alfred, having finally convinced the blond to unlock the bedroom door. Alfred was being even quieter than Kiku was – a telltale sign that something was seriously wrong. He still held the squirming white cat firmly on his lap, as if it was a piece of Matthew that he wasn't willing to let slip away. Gilbert was slouched over one arm of the sofa, while Francis was huddled against the other, gnawing viciously on his handkerchief. Arthur sat in a chair across from them, watching.

They all looked utterly exhausted, even more so than Arthur felt himself. "We should go," Arthur said quietly. "There isn't any point in our staying here forever. It isn't healthy. We'll all go nutburgers if we keep this up."

"Arthur," Francis began, starting a weary protest.

"Arthur-san is right," Kiku put in. "I am sorry for interrupting, but I believe it would be best if everyone went home. The police are searching for Matthew-san. It is very hard to say, but he likely will not be coming home, so it is no use for you to stay here."

"But if he comes back-" Alfred put in.

"Let's take a walk," Arthur put in quickly. "Let's take a walk. We can get some take-out and come back and discuss what to do from there. All right?"

It took a few moments, but everyone agreed. Arthur could hardly believe it when he got everyone out the door and headed down the sidewalk. There was a Chinese restaurant four blocks down. Alfred seemed to come alive once they were outside in the fresh air. "Alfred, slow down a bit."

"No! Let's hurry this up. What if Mattie comes back while we're out and-"

"He's not coming back," Gilbert interrupted. "He's dead."

Alfred glared furiously at Gilbert. "I refuse to believe that."

"Alfred,"

"No, Arthur!" Alfred suddenly latched onto Kiku's arm. "Mattie can't be dead," he said brokenly. "He can't. He wouldn't... He..." Kiku awkwardly patted Alfred's arm as he broke into a sob.

"The note," Gilbert said, his voice dull and flat and detached.

"What about zat damn note?" Francis asked bitterly. "Eet was 'orrible."

"The suicide note explains everything. It's obvious why he did it. He told us exactly how he felt. Invisible. Ignored. Unappreciated. Like no one cared."

"We all care!" Alfred spat furiously.

"I know that," Gilbert hissed. "But Matthew didn't. Because we didn't tell him. We didn't show him. We took him for granted for too long. And now it's too late."

With those words, Alfred bolted off down the block toward town. Kiku hesitated barely a second before hurrying after him. "Gilbert," Francis said quietly. "I understand what you were trying to say, mon cher... But Alfred-"

"Alfred needs a kick in the pants and a reality check," Gilbert spat. "He was one of the worst when it came to taking Mattie for granted."

"Zat may be, cher, but 'e ees Matthieu's brother..."

"I don't give a damn about titles, Franny. I know what he was to me, and that's it."

Francis studied Gilbert momentarily. "You really loved mon Matthieu, didn't you?"

Gilbert scoffed bitterly. "Yeah. And I was too chicken to tell him when I had the chance. That's why that note hit me as hard as it did. Because it took that for me to see how much I really did take Mattie for granted. I thought he'd always be there, because he always was there when I needed him." Gilbert shoved his hands in his pockets. "Know what? I'm not hungry. Tell Alfred I'm sorry if that's what it takes. I'll see you guys when you get back."

"Gilbert," Francis called, but Arthur put a hand on his arm.

"Let him be, Francis," Arthur said softly. "God knows what any of us would be if we lost the person we were in love with. I know I cared about Matthew a lot... but not like Gilbert. I should have seen it sooner."

Francis sniffled a little and nodded. "Oui. You are right for once, cher. Let us go find Alfred and poor Kiku, non?"


	8. Chapter 8

Gilbert trudged back up the walk to Matthew's house. For the first time ever, he didn't enter with his usual exuberance. He entered quietly, and closed the door behind him. He felt the ache in his chest well up and tears threaten. He was too awesome to cry, but if he was going to, he was gonna do it before the others came back.

Gilbert doubted the existence of any deities above, now more than ever. If there was a god anywhere to be found, why would he let shit like this happen? Why would he let it happen to Birdie? Anyone else, he might have been able to understand. Not his Birdie. Birdie was the best person Gilbert knew. Birdie didn't deserve this.

If there was a god up there, Gilbert hated him. If there was a god up there, that meant he'd let Birdie die.

Die alone.

Die unhappy.

Die feeling like he had nobody in the world who gave a shit about what happened to him.

If there was a god up there, he couldn't bring Birdie back. And Gilbert only wanted his Birdie back.

If Gilbert had one wish, he would ask for a second chance with Birdie. Even if it was just ten seconds, Gilbert would take it. He would show Birdie just how much he cared. If only he had one more chance.


	9. Chapter 9

So my house is empty, my stomach is twisted into guilty knots, and there is only one thought overwhelming my mind.

I have to pee.

Don't judge me, okay? Tell me one instance when you've ever had to pee this bad and you've passed up the chance to use your very own bathroom when there was an opportunity. I don't think you can, because no one would do that. Not even I, the outdoorsman supreme, who mocks my brother when we're camping and he doesn't want to pee in the woods.

The house is empty, and they _just_ left. I also know Arthur well enough to know that he will will rain down bloody hell if they don't go along with his plan, so I know they won't be back for at least a half hour. At least. My secret is absolutely safe.

I'm still feeling insanely guilty over tricking everyone, especially listening to everyone yesterday. Today they were just really, really quiet. But I can't call it off yet. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll come down. I'll tell everyone it was a joke. An April Fool's day prank played just a bit early. Of course, they'll probably hate me after that. Another flaw I didn't quite foresee in my plan. Besides. I need the extra time to figure out how the heck I'm going to explain what I did to them.

Good maple leaves, why didn't I think this through more?

At any rate, I'm going to use my own fricking bathroom.

I moved off my bed and to the trap door, pushing it open and releasing the ladder. I climbed down, raced out of the closet, and into the master bath.

Sweet relief was mine.

I sigh contentedly and wash my hands. I flip off the light and open the bathroom door. I am only two steps out of the bathroom on my way back to the closet when I stop short.

Gilbert is standing there, staring up at the ladder rising into the ceiling.

Crap. Gilbert didn't go with them. Why didn't Gilbert go with them? Didn't Gilbert leave with them? When did he come back?!

I don't even have time to think before he turns and sees me. I don't know what I would have done anyway. Gilbert's eyes find mine and I can see the shock in them. "Matthew?" he murmurs so softly I can barely hear him.

"G-Gilbert." I swallow hard. Crap. I really didn't think this plan through. What am I supposed to say to him? How do I explain this?


	10. Chapter 10

"G-Gilbert." I swallow hard. Crap. I really didn't think this plan through. What am I supposed to say to him? How do I explain this?

Turns out, I don't have to. Before I can blink, my back is pressed against the wall, Gilbert pinning me there with his whole body as his lips meet mine in a shocking, intense kiss.

I react on auto-pilot. I've never kissed Gilbert before. I never knew I wanted to. I never knew _he_ wanted to. We're just friends. But I kiss him back anyway. Inexperienced as I may be, it doesn't seem to matter. Gilbert's mouth dominates mine and makes my knees feel week.

After what feels like forever, Gilbert breaks his mouth from mine. My eyes flutter open and I realize I'd shut them somewhere along the line. Gilbert's piercing, beautiful eyes stare into mine. I feel his hand resting on the bare skin of my waist where my shirt rode up. His lips are almost brushing mine as he whispers "I'm dreaming."

I don't know what I expected him to say. Then again, I don't think I could have produced a more intelligent answer to any question after that breathtaking kiss."W-what?"

One of Gilbert's hands comes to rest on my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. "I'm dreaming. I must be. Because you're dead. Doesn't matter. It's a good dream."

"W-well," I swallow hard. "I-if I'm just a dream, then wh-why'd you kiss me?"

Gilbert shakes his head. "I dunno. But my Birdie's been dead for two days. So when I saw you, looking absolutely alive and perfect, I knew I must be dreaming, but I had to kiss you."

"W-why? Why d-did you have to kiss me?"

"Because I never had the guts to do it when you were alive. And whatever gave me this one more chance, I knew I couldn't let it slip past again."

Gilbert's lips meet mine again and I am struck by an overwhelming guilt.

I hurt them. I know I did. I had no idea I meant this much to them. I always felt taken for granted. I always felt second string. I always felt like nobody noticed, nobody cared, nobody wanted me.

Apparently I was wrong.

"I'm not a dream, Gilbert," I say softly, managing to get the words in between his oh-so-tender kisses. Slowly, they cease, and Gilbert pulls back to look at me.

"You're not a dream."

I shake my head. "No, I'm alive."

"Wh-... How... I-" Gilbert's face twists in a mixture of confusion and hurt. Yet he also looks relieved somehow. "Did you... plan this?"

Feeling ashamed, I look down and nod. "I'm sorry, Gilbert."

A conflicted look passes over Gilbert's face again before he tilts my chin up and kisses me for a third time. Then his lips leave mine and he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. Gilbert's voice threatens to crack as he says "Don't you _dare_ do that to me again. Ever. Do you understand me, Matthew Williams?"

I can only nod.

Gilbert pulls back and holds me at arm's length, studying me. "I'm pissed at you, Matthew. Really fucking pissed. What the hell possessed you to pull this kind of god-awful stunt? Do you know what that fucking suicide note did to me, Matthew? Do you?"

I stare at the floor. I can't look at Gilbert. I can't. "I'm really sorry, Gilbert. I didn't mean to hurt you. I... I just..."

"You what? Matthew," Gilbert uses two fingers to lift my chin and force me to look at him. "Mattie. I'm your friend. You can talk to me."

I wrench my chin away from his grasp and frown. "It was stupid. Okay, I get it. I won't do it again."

"I'm more interested in _why_ you faked your own suicide."

Explanations race through my head. They all seem stupid now. _I was lonely. I was bored. I didn't think anyone would care. _"I wanted to see how long it would take before anyone noticed I was gone." The explanation that leaves my lips isn't the one I expected. "I'm so invisible all the time. No one even talks to me unless they need something. Last night, Alfred came over because Kiku was ignoring him, and he didn't even hold a conversation with me before racing out the door. I was bored, and I was curious, and I'm sorry I bothered all of you. Trust me, you can forget about me now." I push myself off the wall and duck under Gilbert's arm, set on leaving the room.

"Matthew." Gilbert catches me by the shoulder and spins me around. "You..." A conflicted look crosses Gil's face. "You really feel that way?"

I shrug. I can't bring myself to look at him for long. I feel so guilty for troubling them like this. Why am I so stupid? "It's not like it's a big deal. I shouldn't have done it anyway. This isn't me. I don't need the attention."

"Look, Birdie..." I almost sigh in relief when I hear him use my nickname. It means he isn't mad. He never calls me Matthew. "I'm sorry."

Wait... "What are _you_ sorry for?"

"For ignoring you so much lately. I've got this really bad habit of screwing over the people I care most about. I was a little afraid of doing that to you, so I was trying to give you some space, you know? Trying not to... well, trying not to scare you away."

I roll my eyes. "You would have done that a long time ago if it was going to happen."

"Yeah, and I screwed up. Especially the last couple weeks. Sure, we had a teeny-tiny argument, but I shouldn't have ignored you like I did. I'm really sorry, Birdie."

My brain processes this apology. I don't really know how to react.

When I look at myself, I think _People must be able to read me like a book. _But then, I always forget they don't know what I'm thinking. And I usually don't tell them unless they ask. I love the company of my friends, and I hate having to initiate the conversation. I tell myself, _if they wanted to talk to me, they'd call._ So when they don't, something inside my brain reacts negatively. It's a part of me that's really screwed up, and I wish I could fix it. I just don't know how.

"It's not your fault," I whisper. My default reaction.

"You're right, it isn't. But it contributed."

I take a shaky breath and a step forward, falling against Gilbert's chest. I really need a hug.

"So let's make a deal, okay Birdie?" Gilbert asks as he wraps his arms around me in return. "I promise to bug the hell out of you until you forcefeed me pancakes to shut up, and you promise to remember that you will always have someone who cares about you, and that you will never, ever, _ever_ do something like this again."

A tiny laugh bubbles out of my throat. "Sounds like a deal."

"Oh, and by the way... I think I'm in love with you."

"Hmm, really?"

"You don't sound surprised."

"Well, I think I kind of figured it out when you stuck your tongue down my throat."

"Too much?"

"Heck no. Do it again."

Gilbert's chest vibrates with the sound of his laugh. "Gladly."

* * *

_**A/N: Next chapter he faces the wrath of his family...  
Let's just say that Arthur doesn't take this little 'prank' all too well...  
**_

_**And yes, I'm aware that this chapter is incredibly corny. I'm not very good at winding to a close...  
**_


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of the front door opening and closing reaches my ears. Gilbert refuses to let go as footsteps move closer and closer. Francis' lilting French accent calls out Gilbert's name. The harsher, English voice I know as Arthur's joins it. Arthur's voice grows louder, but still Gilbert doesn't let go. Only when Arthur chokes in surprise and clears his throat from directly behind me do I push Gilbert back with enough force to break his kiss. I glanced nervously over at Arthur as Gilbert wrapped his arms around me protectively. Arthur's face is pure shock as he finally makes his voice to work. "Francis, in here."

"Did you find Gilbert, cher?"

Oh I found Gilbert alright," Arthur says, his voice sounding rather squeaky.

Francis appears in the doorway and his eyes lock on me. A mixture of emotions flash across his face before he's suddenly upon me. He practically rips me out of Gilbert's arms to pepper my cheeks, my forehead, and my nose with kisses. "Matthieu! Mon précieux Matthieu!"

"Hi Papa," I whisper as Francis practically crushes me in his embrace.

"Matthieu! 'Ow are you 'ere? What... What..."

"The better questions are," Arthur inserted. "_'Where have you been?' and 'What the BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?'"_

I lower my head in shame. "I... I..."

"Birdie." Gilbert pulls me away from Francis, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his head on my shoulder. "Birdie, you're gonna have to explain."

"I don't have a good explanation," I say quietly, still staring at the floor.

"Just tell us what happened," Gilbert says.

"Can... can we wait for Alfred? I'd... rather not have to explain it all twice."

Arthur looks about ready to explode, but Francis nods. "Oui. We will wait for Alfred." Francis takes my cheeks between his hands and kisses my forehead again. "Dieu merci, vous êtes en vie," he whispers.

"I'm really sorry, Papa," I whisper in return, finally raising my head to meet his teary blue gaze.

"Je t'aime, Matthew. Je t'aime tellement. I am sorry eef I never told you."

"Non, Papa!" I disengage myself from Gilbert's grasp and fling my arms around Francis. "Non. I know you love me. I love you too. Always. You're my Papa. I just... I'll explain as soon as Alfred comes. I will. I promise."

"You'd better," Arthur cut in rather harshly. "You have a lot of explaining to do, young man."

"Why don't you just call Kiku and tell him to get Alfred back here ASAP." Gilbert told Arthur, rather than asked.

* * *

_Dieu merci, vous êtes en vie ~ "Thank God you're alive"_

_Je t'aime tellement ~ "I love you so much"_


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Last chapter. Thought I'd do some shout-outs. :) 3 I hope I didn't miss anyone... If I missed you, you get double the love.**_

_**Kaytalia, starlight1395, XxLadyOfSinxX, ThatRandomReview, .MAPLE, autumnlovestomatoes, Anime Alert, SarahTonin, Kabe Allamar, Katie-Kat1129, et12356, .5, tantei no hime, death the girl 888, Falling Stars of Silver, Greenly huntress of Artemis, bluebacon, pseudonymous ghostwritier, and Ricato - THANK YOU ALL FOR REVIEWING! :D You make me so very happy. I lurve ju.**_

_**maplepancakes99 - Ever get tired of being spot-on? ;)**_

_**PaintSplatterVampire - Well then. Is there a unicorn at the end of your rainbow puke? **_

_**PrussianBacon - Wow. Well, I'm not sure if I should apologize of congratulate you for daring to even attempt the journey into yaoi land. I've been there, and I remain there, and I still have no idea where the exit is. I think I stopped looking.**_

_**TheLlamaArmada628 - FOUND HIM! He's in chapter 12! :P**_

_**Now go read it already! **_

* * *

After Arthur's phone conversation with Kiku – which lasted approximately seven seconds – we find ourselves in the living room. I am sandwiched on the couch between a clingy Gilbert and a doting Francis, trying to avoid the cold, green stare directed at me from across the room.

I hear the front door open and I pull myself away from Gil and Papa to stand up. I almost fall on my face, having not realized Mr. Kumajirou - my cat - had made himself comfortable lying at my feet. "Sorry Mr. Kamakatchi," I mutter, stepping over the animal and looking up for my brother to appear.

"Artie! Artie, what's wrong? Please don't tell me-"

Alfred barrels through the front door, up the stairs, and into the living room, his mouth moving a mile a minute. But his feet and his words skid to a stop when he sets eyes on the blond haired, blue eyed, almost-exact-replica of himself. Alfred's eyes go wide, he lets out a frightened squeak, and quickly hides behind his Japanese boyfriend, who had only just arrived at the top of the stairs. "Oh my god! Mattie's ghost!"

"Alfred-" I begin, but he doesn't listen.

"Artie is this why you called Kiku because this is a shitty prank!"

"Alfred-" I take a couple steps closer, but Alfred cowers with each step.

"Noooo! Don't hurt meeee! I know I was a shitty brother, Mattie, and I'm really sorry for ignoring you so much, and for painting an American flag on your forehead when we were six, and for telling everyone you were my clone!"

Wait, what? "You told them I was your clone?"

"I'm so sorry, Matt, please don't haunt me!"

"Alfred you git!" Arthur explodes from across the room. "Shut your bloody pie hole and let Matthew speak."

Alfred swallows visibly and shakily peeps his head out from behind one bewildered Kiku.

"Al, I'm not a ghost."

"Wh-what? But you must be a ghost because Mattie is dead!" Alfred gasps suddenly. "WAIT ARE YOU A ZOMBIE!?" Alfred screams and would have run for the door if I hadn't grabbed him by the beltloops and tossed him onto the couch.

"Alfred, shut up and sit still."

Alfred obeys with blue eyes as wide as dinner plates. He doesn't even notice when Mr. Kumajirou hops up beside him and curls up in his lap.

"I'm not a ghost, I'm not a zombie, I'm just Matthew. I'm not dead."

Alfred blinks. "Are you sure?"

I roll my eyes. "Pretty sure."

"But your note said-"

"I know what the note said!" I gulp, not really sure why I yelled. "I wrote it. I wanted you guys to think I was dead."

"Why would you do that?" Alfred looks like an injured puppy dog and I feel the guilt increase in my stomach.

"I... I..."

"Spit it out, Matthew," Arthur prompts. "It's pretty much the only thing we want to know at this point. Why did you deceive us in such a manner?"

"I had to know, okay?" I whisper finally.

"Know what, Matthieu?"

"What you guys would do. If you'd notice. If you'd care. What would happen if one day I was just gone."

There is a long silence. Arthur breaks it, his voice controlled and evenly measured. "Did you get the reaction you were expecting?"

I shake my head.

"Whaddidya think we were gonna do, Mattie?" Alfred asks me. "Didn't you know we'd be heartbroken?" Alfred sits forward on the couch a little. "You're my brother, Mattie. I love you."

"I know," I tell him. "I know, and I should have known I just... sometimes I have a hard time reminding myself that when I don't see it. And sometimes, my imagination runs away with me when I go days between any kind of interaction with my friends or my family. I got lonely, and I got bored, and... I wanted to know. So I wrote a suicide note, and I hid out in the attic.

"I didn't pull this stunt for attention, and I didn't mean to hurt any of you. I honestly didn't expect anything to happen. I figured Al would come back for his jacket, think I was out for a few minutes or something, and leave. I figured I'd get sick of hiding before anyone even noticed. I didn't think Gilbert would find the note, I didn't know he'd call Papa, and I didn't know all of this would be such a big deal." I swallow hard and stare at the floor, feeling too guilty to look anywhere else. "I'm sorry I cause this ordeal. I should have left it all alone. I'm so, so sorry for upsetting you. Really."

I fall silent, finished with my explanation. I'm not sure what to expect. Arthur will probably yell, then leave. Alfred might cry. Francis and Gilbert... well I don't know about them. And what Kiku does depends on what Alfred ends up doing.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see Arthur stand and calmly walk toward me. I tense up, bracing myself for the worst. I really wasn't expecting him to hug me.

Shocked still, I remain frozen for a moment before slowly returning Arthur's embrace. He was never the affectionate one – that was Francis. I was never his favorite – that was Alfred. In fact, I figured he was one of the worst offenders when it came to forgetting about me. I honestly didn't know he cared for me at all. Then again, I've never been able to read him, so this could be something else I've been wrong about.

"I'm sorry, Matthew," Arthur says gently. I tighten my grip around him slightly. "I've always been terrible at remembering you. You were always partial to Francis, and Alfred – being the obnoxious git he is –"

"Hey!"

" – Always needed my attention more. I thought. I'm sorry that you feel this way, Matthew, truly. I'm certain none of us intended to make you feel forgotten. I really do care about you, lad. I hope you know." Arthur cleared his throat and lowered his voice even more. "I love you, Matthew."

A tear leaks out the corner of my eye and I squeeze Arthur tight. "I love you too. Dad."

Arthur lets out a breathy chuckle. "Dad, eh now?" he asks as he releases me from the hug.

"Well, Francis is Papa," I explain, the tiniest hint of a smile lifting my lips. "I can go back to Arthur, if you like."

One side of Arthur's mouth lifts in a smile. "Dad it is."

Had I paid more attention to Alfred, I would have realized what he was doing when he flung my cat off his lap and jumped up off the couch.

"Mattieeeeee!"

The exclamation comes as I am tackled to the floor by my brother. He wraps his arms around me in a death grip and doesn't let up until I start to squeak, in need of air. "Mattie! I'm so glad you're not dead! Or a ghost! Or a zombie!"

"Me too," I say, finally able to breath when Alfred pulls back a little.

"I can't believe you did that to us! How mean! This has to be, like, the worst best April Fool's Day joke ever!"

"It isn't April Fool's yet."

"Close enough! This way we weren't expecting it, "Alfred informs me. "But... did you really feel like I forgot about you?"

I shrug. "Sometimes."

Alfred frowns. "I'm sorry, Matt. Honest. You know I get excited sometimes, but I'll never forget about my bro! You're... you're like my best friend, Matt."

The earnest smile on Alfred's face makes me smile in return. "You're like mine, too, Al."

Alfred's smile grows into a grin and he gives me another bone cracking hug before releasing me.

"See Matthieu?" Francis asks. "We all love you so much, mon petite. So eef you please... never, ever geeve us such a scare again, oui? Otherwise, I believe I shall die of a 'eart attack."

I look at the ground again. "Are you guys mad at me?"

"Non, non, Mattieu. We are glad you are all right! Et, we are _très désolé_ to 'ear zat you feel zis way. What can we do to make sure zat you know 'ow much you mean to us, cher?"

I shrug. I feel like I've exhausted all the attention I'm entitled to for a while. Then Gilbert comes and drapes an arm around my shoulders. "I'm going to make sure Birdie knows how much he means to me."

"I'm gonna make sure Mattie knows he can always count on his hero to be there for him!"

"I'm going to remember that I have _two_ young men I am proud to call my sons. One is obnoxious and well-meaning, while the other is quiet and very charming."

"I'm not charming, Dad?"

"Don't push it, Alfred."

"Well zen. I suppose I shall decide on my own 'ow to make sure you know I care for you, Matthieu." Francis gives me his most charming smile. "I promise zat I shall make more time for mon petite Matthieu, so zat you know zat I would _never_ forget you."

At a loss for words, I hear a "Thank you" somehow tumble out of my mouth. Gilbert hugs me closer. "I don't know about you, but getting someone back from the dead has given me an appetite."

"ME TOO!"

"Alfred, we just ate," Kiku reminds him.

"SO?"

"Kiku, you're dating the Human Vacuum. It's to be expected."

"l'Anglais is right. 'Aven't you noticed his endless appetite?"

"You guys, I'm _right_ here."

"No one cares, Freddie."

"Call me Freddie one more time you filthy, German brother-defiler."

"I am PRUSSIAN."

"PRUSSIA DOESN"T EXIST ANYMORE."

"It does in those who carry it's pride in their hearts."

"You're a loony toon."

"At least I don't own stock in McDonald's."

"It's a good investment!"

"Only because you eat there twice a day!"

Heh. Good to know everything's back to normal around here...

And I'll never give it up for the world.

* * *

_**A/N: I feel like I should explain where this fic came from.**_

_**The first chapter may as well be a page out of my diary. I wonder along the same lines as Mattie a LOT. And while I may suffer from mild, on/off depression, I am not suicidal and never will be.**_

_**The first chapter came out when I was being bored and somewhat lonely and wishing that anyone at all would start a conversation with me. The rest was my imagination figuring out what would happen after. All the while, I was figuring out what would happen if I did what Matthew did in this fic. I think Mattie is quite a bit more popular than I am, but I know my family would be devastated if I disappeared like that, and I would never, ever do something like this.**_

_**Another reason I wrote this is because I hate when everyone thinks that Canada is suicidal. Yes; he's quiet, frequently forgotten, often invisible, and yeah, I can even see him getting a little bit depressed every once in a while because of all that. But when I see him portrayed as a cutter, or involved in some other type of self harm, or trying to chuck himself off a bridge, I can't stand it. I hardly ever see any of the other Hetalia characters in that role, and I hate that Mattie is left to fill that gap. While I know that kind of stuff happens to tons of people, and while I don't mind the occasional angsty fic with Canada in that role, I don't like that Matthew is almost**_** always_ that poor, depressed character who just wants to die. Canada is my favorite character. I just... I don't like it. So I portray him differently._  
**

**_So there's that. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope the ending wasn't too fail. I'm glad that you guys took the time to read this, and left me so many reviews! 55 as of right now! I honestly didn't expect this big of a response. Je vous aime tous, and thank you!_**

**_Love,  
Hipster Canada_**


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